The 71st Sonnet
by Neata Skeeter
Summary: Set during season 1 ep 'Expecting'. Wes centered fic. Cordy's comment brings up a past he'd hoped long forgotten. Not my usual bubbly kinda fic. Please R&R. Thankyou.


Disclaimer- Is Angel waiting for me in my bedroom? No. Is Spike sitting beside me, looking all sexy? Nope. Is Lindsey one of the leading men in my life? Nu-uh. Is Xander making with the funnies while I type? Definitely not. If any of the above had a 'YES' attached, do you think I'd be sharing? Hell no. However, because I do not own anything, and Joss and M.E. and all those organizations DO, I expect them to share with me. Hence I will write fanfic..  
  
Summary- Set during 'Expecting' way back in season 1. Something deep and dark is hidden in Wes' past. Poor guy. How is he dealing? Not my usual 'happy go lucky' fic. Horribly predictable and a bad attempt at angsty/dramatic stuff..but please r&r anyway.  
  
*****Cordy whispers: "You don't know what it's like to be a partner in creation."*****  
  
A/N- This was inspired by the above quote to Wes. Just a little something that popped into my head as I was going through my fav ep "Expecting". I know it's slightly AU. But I was thinking 'What if.' Not just that, but I heard about the Bold and the Beautifulness of season 4 and I'm disgusted. Ats was NEVER supposed to be a soap opera..WHAT THE HELL WAS JOSS THINKING???? WAS HE EVEN THINKING AT ALL???? *trying to calm myself down* Anywho, I've never really tried the drama scene, so here goes. Tell me what u think and if u want more, k? Oh, and MAJOR thanks to Imzadi here! When I got stuck with this, she gave me a few nudges..although the majority of them were towards Lindsey.. *winks* Anyway, thanks heaps to her and the rest of you PLEASE read and review. Thank you.  
  
**********************  
  
"You don't know what it's like to be a partner in creation." Cordelia hisses at me. I know that it's just the demonic spawn currently residing inside her womb that is making her act this way. I know that she doesn't mean to be cruel or snap..but her words still cut me.  
  
But, even so, how was she to know the truth? How was she to know about my past? About the lives I lost years ago?  
  
She wasn't. And she never will.  
  
I look back at her and stammer, as I usually do when I'm thrown off guard. (Great load of good it does me too.) "I - I - I just meant..."  
  
What did I mean? Honestly, I can't remember. My thoughts keep drifting away to another time..with another incredibly attractive woman.. Damn Cordelia for bringing up my past! It's something that I had repressed. Memories that I had hoped were long forgotten. And yet, here they are, resurfacing to haunt me. What did I expect? I mean, I lost a wife and child..Did I ever think I could fool myself and pretend like it never happened? Of course not. But perhaps...perhaps I thought I could move on. Escape the pain and live my life the way she told me to right before...  
  
"Wesley?" Cordelia's voice interrupts my thoughts, for which I am quite grateful.  
  
I look back at her tentatively. "Yes?"  
  
"They're not human." She whispers, her tone bordering on fearful.  
  
"I imagine that's true." I find myself replying, my voice also at a whisper. Why? Well, I have no idea. But then again, nothing in my life has ever made any sense.  
  
Cordelia implores my gaze with her huge hazel eyes, which are currently laced with tears. "But, I mean.. that could be okay, right? I mean, look at Angel. He's not human. And Doyle, he wasn't either...."  
  
"Shh." I say, attempting to calm her. "Shh."  
  
Cordelia continues anyway. "I mean, not totally." Her voice drops back to a whisper. "He was good."  
  
I start to blot her forehead with my handkerchief. "Shh. Shh."  
  
That's brilliant isn't it? The best I can come up with to comfort the poor girl is *Shh*? But then, what did I expect of myself? The ability to summon up some words of compassion? Words of reassurance? I wouldn't know how. After..IT happened, nobody ever laid a reassuring hand on *my* shoulder. My own father told me to forget it and move on with my life. Well, I'm sorry to inform him that it doesn't work like that. Not after you lose what I've lost.  
  
I know it sounds awful, but the first thing I thought when I saw Cordelia lying in her bed this morning was what I could have had. What I *should* have had. Before the thought that she was carrying demonic children hit me, I envied her. She didn't want the blessing. She didn't want to accept the life she had created. When other people have lost so much..when there are those that cannot have children..there was she, who was given a gift and she wanted to return it. It angered me.  
  
But I digress. Hers was a different situation, I'll admit. And she did not know anything of my past. I'll reiterate the fact that she never will as well.  
  
As I take in her resting form, flashbacks of my past fly through my head. They flood my thoughts and invade my senses. I'm giving in to them, I don't want to fight any more. Not now..  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Wesley!" She called, running up to me, her dark brown locks swooped up in a ponytail as usual.  
  
I turned to face her, a smile growing onto my face. She was beautiful. Positively breathtaking. At 21, early as it was, I knew I had found the love of my life. She was a year younger than me, and in her second year of university. I was in my third, but had already been accepted into the Watcher's Council. My father would hear of me becoming nothing else than a watcher. Not that his attitude had really bothered me. At the time, I had thought of the job as positively riveting. Besides, I had *her* to go home to. And, really, so long as that was the case, nothing else had mattered.  
  
I embraced the girl of my dreams and kissed her on the forehead tenderly. "Evelyn.." I breathed her name, as if it were the most valuable and delicate thing on the earth and to utter it improperly would cause the earth to collapse around you. To me, that was how it felt. She was my everything. And, hopefully, I was hers. Pulling apart with a longing to never let her go, I brushed a stray strand of her hair from her face. "How was your day?"  
  
She grinned back at me, "Better now that you're with me again."  
  
My heart melted in that instant. It always did when it was her. I still couldn't believe she was mine. It seemed so unreal. In all my life, she was the one person that ever truly cared about me. That tried to understand. That wanted to be with me in any way, shape or form.  
  
I kissed her petite nose and stared into her eyes, my gaze filled with adoration and love. "As am I now that you are here with me." I never really knew why she wanted to be with me at first. But I was to learn later on that she 'saw my true potential.' She loved me for who I really was. Who I wanted to be.  
  
She trailed her hand up my chest lazily, and I felt myself starting to lose control. She knew how much I wanted her. How much I needed her. And here she was in broad daylight *Deliberately* taking advantage of that!  
  
Not that I minded really.  
  
I smiled as she looked up at me, her fingers toying with my top two buttons. "I've missed you.." She quirked an adorable eyebrow at me and I nodded in understanding. We'd only been apart for 5 hours, but it had felt like eternity. I swallowed as her intent became clearer and her actions much more suggestive. This was not good for me. Not here in public. I still needed to be able to walk away..without various parts of my anatomy getting people's attention. She leant forward and whispered into my ear, "I mean *really* missed you. Shall we go and..get reacquainted?"  
  
Numbly I nodded and followed her to the car. It was a wonder we made it all the way into the apartment that night.  
  
*  
  
Months later she'd started to get sick of a morning. (Apparently, she'd developed a few other symptoms as well, but I wasn't to know that.) Of course, I hadn't had a clue about anything. All I had known was she hadn't been feeling well and she wanted to know what was wrong with her. Not even considering the possibility of a pregnancy this early in her life, she'd gone to the doctor worried as all hell. It was when she'd stumbled in one evening, eyes bloodshot and face pale, that I prepared myself for the worst.  
  
"Good lord!" I exclaimed, noting everything about her demeanour the second she entered the apartment. I rushed to her side and helped her to the nearest chair. After a few moments, I brought up the courage to ask, "What's wrong?"  
  
Evelyn's usually vibrant hazel eyes were focussed into nothingness and she shook her head, visibly forcing herself to face me. "Oh..I..I heard from the doctor today..." She choked back a sob.  
  
I tilted my head to the side and reached for her hand. She flinched from my touch, as if it were something vile. I was hurt, but then realised that she was probably still in shock. And shock could make a person act strangely. "And..?" I said, pushing the issue gently.  
  
She looked back at me, her doe-eyes wet with tears. "I..I..I.." She stammered. I knew right then and there it had to be bad. She never stammered. It was MY job to stammer. She paused and tried again, making sure she looked anywhere but at me. "I..I'mpregnantWes." She rushed finally, before allowing her head to fall into her arms and her body to convulse with sobs.  
  
I had almost missed it. She'd spoken so fast that it took me a few seconds to work it out. I froze, unable to think. Unable to move. She was pregnant. How was I supposed to process that information? I was only 21! She was barely 20! How were we supposed to deal with it?  
  
We spent 5 minutes like that. Me- sitting, dumbfounded in my seat. Evelyn- crying her poor lungs out at the kitchen table. I finally shook myself out of my stupor and cautiously wrapped my arms around her. She threw her arms around my neck and all I could do was hold her while she wept.  
  
Between us we held a silent understanding: We'd work things out later.  
  
*  
  
Further on down the track life had taken a few twists and turns. For starters, we had decided to get married. It was the only logical thing to do. My father was less than impressed, but then again, he never agreed with anything I did. Ever. So it wasn't exactly something I dwelled on. Although, when he had first learnt about our *situation* he'd almost killed me. Not literally of course, but his actions..his voice..he was horrified.  
  
Mother, as usual, sat in the parlour weeping helplessly after I'd started to explain. There was nothing she could say or do to offer me her support or encouragement. My father had forbidden her from it. In hindsight, I wonder if she'd even said 'I do' at her own wedding, or if *he* had said it for her. Not that it matters now. I doubt it even mattered then.  
  
Anyhow, after mother had left the room in tears, my father pretty much lost control.  
  
"You did WHAT?!" He'd exploded, his face contorting with disgust while we gathered in his home.  
  
Evelyn's hand had gripped my own even tighter when she flinched at his harshness. I kept thinking that she shouldn't have been there. Kept on telling myself it was a mistake to have let her come that day. But she hadn't listened. That was just her style. She was stubborn and never let herself become intimidated by ANYONE else. Silly me had actually believed it would be the same with my father.  
  
I glared back at the man, contempt snaking its way into my tone. "Please refrain from rasing your voice around Evelyn. She should avoid stress right now and you are definitely not helping the matter."  
  
"Oh is that so, is it?" He snarled, stepping closer to us.  
  
I stood and moved in front of my fiancé, shielding her from his view, her fingers still intertwined with my own. Moving my mouth to respond, I got cut off.  
  
"You fool!" The man cried, his dark eyes raging with hate and revulsion. "You bloody idiot! You're a disgrace, you know that?!"  
  
"Well, after hearing it everyday for the past 21 years of my life-"  
  
"Exactly! You're just 21 and you've already ruined your life with sluts like this one and look how far it got you!" He snorted. "Pregnant! Hah! Bloody bastard child is a punishment for living a life of sin if you ask me." He paused and tilted his head to the side, snickering in that cruel, sadistic way of his. "That's if it even is *yours*. After all, I seriously doubt a pansy like you could father a child. Perhaps..perhaps the whore is lying to you and it really is someone else's. Or perhaps-"  
  
I couldn't mask the anger in my voice, nor the way my tone seemed to take on certain menacing properties. Bringing myself to full-height, I took another step forward to stand toe-to-toe with him and stared into his eyes, interrupting his spiel as I did. "Do *NOT*, under any circumstance, refer to my fiancé and child like that *EVER* again or so help me God-"  
  
Another derisive snort. "Why would God want to help someone as pitiful as you?"  
  
"Perhaps," I sneered, mimicking his previous tone, "Perhaps, it's more logical than assisting a person as despicable as yourself?"  
  
I didn't know what had gotten into me. Usually I would sit back and take his abuse. I could never in my wildest dreams even *consider* standing up to him, yet there I was, fighting with everything I had in me. Call it love for my woman and child. Call it a sense of becoming over-protective. Call it years of pent-up hate and frustration. Whatever it was, it had the man even more enraged than ever before.  
  
"Despicable?! Let me tell you something about despicable! Despicable is having your only child that you have worked hard to raise in a good, Christian home turn up one day and inform you that he has screwed up his life by knocking some streetwalker up and-"  
  
He never got to finish the end of his sentence. I'd hit him. And Lord had it hurt my poor hand. "*NEVER* refer to Evelyn like that!" I hissed. "*NEVER*." What can I say? I'd warned the man. I really had.  
  
He touched his cracked and bleeding lip with his fingers tenderly, a look of shock over coming his features. Features so much like my own in another 30 years time..if I ever live that long mind you. I could never grow to look like him though. Sure, my face may bare a remarkable resemblance, but I could never become so hard, so cruel, so emotionless.  
  
Glaring back at me, my father growled. "Get out now. I never want to see you, your sleazy woman or your bastard child ever again." His brow furrowed further. "Do I make myself clear?"  
  
Ushering Evelyn through the door I muttered, "Crystal." Before leaving and refusing to look back.  
  
After that, we held a small ceremony with a few close friends. It was quaint and not at all extravagant -like I knew she'd deserved- but she'd insisted it was perfect anyway. I promised her on our so-called honeymoon (one night in a fancy hotel) that we'd hold a much more grandiose wedding after the baby was born. Even though she'd protested, I wouldn't hear of it. I loved her and nothing would ever be beyond her reach. She had to do was ask and somehow I would get it for her.  
  
A week or so after the wedding, I'd started putting in extra hours at the Council. I needed the finances desperately, and it looked as if over-time at the office was my only chance towards supporting my family. Not that I minded the work all that much, it was the fact that I worked so close to my father that I hated. Luckily, though, I avoided him as much as possible..and, as we specialised in separate fields, I rarely ever had to sit in a boardroom with him. But chance meetings in the hallway would often result in glares and nasty comments, which would leave me fuming for days.  
  
Needless to say, my relationship with Evelyn grew rocky. My hectic work- schedule, along with my anger of encounters with my father, caused tension between us of a negative sort. She'd often allow her hormones to take charge and would accuse me of no longer wanting her in any way, shape or form. She'd cry for hours on end because she thought I wasn't attracted to her and then lock herself in our room when I'd try to explain. We were falling apart at the seams and there were even days when I wouldn't even bother leaving the office.  
  
Then one-day, out of the blue, Quentin Travers strolled into my tiny cubicle and offered me a promotion of sorts. I supposed that there were those at the Council that had been sympathetic towards my plight. I *had* overheard numerous conversations concerning the 'unjustness' of my father's attitude, not that anyone had known that I was listening. After listening to Quentin's proposition, I'd tilted my head to the side and gazed up at the man.  
  
"My father will not approve of this." I told him.  
  
He nodded, taking a seat in front of my desk. "You're right." He replied, "He doesn't. He even rallied against the decision, fighting it all the way to the top..But his efforts were in vain."  
  
I raised an eyebrow. "Then why offer it to me when there are others just as worthy, if not more than worthy of a higher position?"  
  
Letting out a low chuckle, Travers stretched out in his seat. "Because not one of them deserves it like you do." He leant forwards, whispering like a conspirator, "When they all need money, they rush to their parents, the banks for loans, they sell off their possessions..Their last instinct is to actually WORK for it. You, on the other hand, jeopardise your social life, even your family life, to provide for the people you care for by proving that you are a determined hard-worker." He sat back in his chair once more. "Does that make any sense to you?"  
  
I merely nodded, understanding that in order to keep the higher position, I would have to maintain a high-level output. "Yes sir." Although it meant the same long hours and rocky responses at home, my income would increase significantly. And providing for my family was at the top of my priorities.  
  
"Am I to assume that you will accept my offer?" Quentin asked, rising from the seat.  
  
"Yes, thankyou sir."  
  
He smiled as I stood to shake his outstretched hand. "Good." He said, taking his hand away after we made our verbal agreement. "I shall have your new contract drawn up and ready for you to sign within the hour." He turned to leave, but paused and looked at me with another smile. "Oh and Wesley?"  
  
I looked at him, wondering what else he wanted. "Yes sir?"  
  
"Enjoy your week off."  
  
"I beg your pardon?" I asked, not quite comprehending what it was he was saying.  
  
He rolled his eyes. "After you leave today -at the standard time of 5pm might I add- I do not want to see you back here for another week, is that understood?" He didn't pause for me to answer, just kept talking. "In that time I shall have your new office ready and all your belongings transported into it. I want you to enjoy your brief holiday and make amends with your wife. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"  
  
I didn't know exactly how he knew of my personal problems, but right then I didn't really care. I just nodded numbly and shook his hand once more, muttering "Thankyou sir." numerous times.  
  
Life was starting to look good again.  
  
On my way home that evening, I bought Evelyn 13 long-stemmed red roses (13 was her favourite number) and waltzed into the apartment humming, much to Eve's surprise. Before she could say anything, though, I had already stalked over to her and greeted her with a kiss so passionate; I was surprised the windows didn't fog up. She pulled away out of breath and grinning wildly.  
  
"Good day at work, then?" She asked, one hand drifting to rest on her rapidly swelling belly, the other playing with my hair.  
  
I smiled. "You could say that.."  
  
*  
  
The week's vacation proved to be just what we needed. We spent all our time in the apartment, most of it in bed, living on ice cream and rediscovering each other--our hopes, our dreams, and, yes, our fears too. Now she understood why I was afraid of becoming my father. "You never will, Wes." She'd said, "You have a heart."  
  
On the rare occasion when we *did* leave the apartment, we met with doctors and even ventured into a few baby stores. The first sonogram I attended left me speechless, or at least, more so than usual.  
  
I sat beside Eve, my fingers intertwined with hers, watching a little blurred image on a black and white screen, the steady beating of the baby's heart filling my ears. I was in heaven. Evelyn was radiant and the doctor, well experienced in her field, was smiling patiently, awaiting our attention to return to her.  
  
"So, Evelyn, today is the big day. I can tell you the baby's gender. Although it's not a hundred percent accurate at this stage, we can still be pretty sure." She said, beaming at us. "That is, of course, if you wish to know. Many parents-to-be like the anticipation and surprise."  
  
Eve took a deep breath, grinning at me, her eyes shining with excitement and hope. "What do you think, Wes? Do you want to know?"  
  
I chuckled lightly at her nodding and kissed the top of her hand. "I doubt I really have a choice here." I smirked at her playfully, waiting a beat and then continuing. "Of course I do, especially if you do."  
  
She almost squealed in joy and looked back at the doctor. "May we?"  
  
Laughing warmly, the doctor pointed at the screen and told us we were expecting a little girl. Immediately, images of a miniature version of Evelyn filled my head. I could envision a tiny angelic face framed by dark locks of hair, two enchanting hazel eyes that glittered when the sun hit them, the cutest ski-jump nose and a smile that lit up a room.  
  
Evelyn's voice cut me from my reverie. "Wesley!"  
  
"Hmmm?" I looked into her eyes and smiled. "I'm sorry..I got lost in thought."  
  
"I noticed." She grinned and pointed at the clock on the wall. "It's time to go."  
  
Had I really been out of it for that long? I felt my face flush and smiled sheepishly. "Oh..I see." Extending my hand to the doctor, my smile widened. "Thankyou very much."  
  
Chuckling as she pried her hand from mine after I kept shaking it, she nodded. "You're more than welcome. Congratulations." She looked at Eve and handed her a card and set of documents. "Same time next week?"  
  
*  
  
Looking back on this, neither of us could have been happier. Eve and I had even decided on a name for our daughter. 'Marie Wyndham-Pryce'. Marie had been her mother's name, and when she had offered it as a suggestion I agreed immediately. Her mother had died when she was a young girl, no older than 8 years of age, and from what Evelyn had told me, she was a truly wonderful human being. Which, to me, only made the name more alluring. Besides, upon testing the sound of the name on my tongue, I decided that I wouldn't want it any other way.  
  
The due-date was well approaching when I received an urgent call from the Council early one Sunday morning. God how I wish I hadn't taken it. Hindsight is 20/20, as they say, and looking back at this day there is no exception to the phrase.  
  
I had barely enough time to grab a piece of toast and kiss my wife on the forehead while she slept, leaving her a note to explain my whereabouts, promising her that when I returned we'd make up for lost time.  
  
Needless to say, that never happened.  
  
During the meeting concerning the calling of a new Slayer (no, this was not Buffy yet, but her predecessor) Travers entered the room, looking more grave than usual. I thought nothing of it, deciding his mood was probably due to the tragic loss of yet another Slayer. That was until he beckoned for me to leave with him. I glanced up at the clock as I left. It was around 2 in the afternoon. I wasn't surprised. These meetings were usually incredibly long, tedious and horrendously boring.  
  
"Wesley," He started once we were out in the hall, "I.." He hesitated and looked around. I thought of his actions as strange, but failed to question them. "I think we should go to my office."  
  
I nodded, becoming increasingly unsure of where this conversation was heading. "Yes sir."  
  
As I walked behind Quentin, following him through the catacomb of hallways to his office, my mind was racing and I was getting more and more worried. Perhaps he was firing me? But then, he wouldn't be taking me to his personal office for that. And he definitely wouldn't have pulled me out of an important meeting. What could be so important for his actions and current demeanour?  
  
When we entered his office he instructed me to close the door and take a seat. Another bad sign that set the alarms off in my head. Still, I complied in silence and sat in front of his desk, looking up at him quizzically.  
  
"Wesley.." He started again, this time his tone sadder, softer and to me, a hell of a lot scarier. He took in a deep breath and looked into my eyes. What I saw in his usually cold, grey orbs shocked me. There was compassion and sympathy. For what, I had no idea. But if I doubted that I had reason to worry before, I definitely didn't anymore. "Wes, I'm sorry, but we...no *I* received a call from the hospital and-"  
  
I froze, realising that this had nothing to do with the Council or my job. "Evelyn." I squeaked. It wasn't a question. I knew it was about her. And from Travers' appearance, I knew it wasn't happy news.  
  
Suddenly I was wishing to be losing my job.  
  
When Quentin nodded I stood up, the adrenalin from the shock turning to anger, blocking the weakness and urge to fall to pieces. "What's happened?"  
  
"There was an automobile accident..Wesley, I'm so sorry. I-"  
  
"Where is she?" I cut him short, my anger and resolve crumbling, only to be replaced by panic and an almost-onslaught of tears. No. I wouldn't cry. Not yet anyhow.  
  
My boss handed me a slip of paper and explained that she had still been alive when the hospital had called, but there was barely any chance of survival. I didn't care. I just needed to get to her. Frantically I ran from his office, down the numerous halls and to my car.  
  
I had to see her. She had to be alright. She had to.  
  
*  
  
Racing to the first desk I could see, I explained everything about the situation in a matter of seconds, refusing to take a breath between words. I was then taken to a small ward where a doctor led me aside and explained her condition. In my frantic state I only caught a few words, but they were enough. I pieced the rest together myself.  
  
A drunk driver had hit her car, wrapping it around a telegraph pole. She had suffered immense internal injuries, and through the trauma Marie had been killed. Eve was being held on life-support, but it was a matter of time before we'd lose her as well. Before I'd lose the love of my life. My everything.  
  
I was allowed into her room to spend whatever time we had left together in private. I gasped when I saw her. There were tubes all over the place, her skin was pale and yellowed and there was no longer an air of life and vibrancy around her. She was bruised and cut. She would always be the most beautiful woman I would ever lay my eyes on, but seeing her like this was killing me.  
  
"Wes.." She croaked out the second I walked in.  
  
I wanted to cry, but I forced myself to stay strong. "Eve.." I replied, my voice hitching in my throat as I did. I strode to sit beside her, clutching her limp hand in mine and kissing it gently. She moved to speak, straining herself, draining her precious energy. I shook my head feebly, "Shh..Don't speak. Conserve your strength."  
  
"Wes.." She started again, and I felt myself losing control. It wasn't fair. Why did I have to lose the one thing in my life that I felt good about? She was my reason to live, and she was being taken from me. I couldn't bare it.  
  
A lone tear rolled down my cheek and she raised her index finger slowly to wipe it away. I caught her eyes. So much sadness..Too much pain..  
  
I broke down, sobbing in a completely unmanly display of my emotions.  
  
"Wes, no.." Evelyn whispered hoarsely. It amazed me that I could hear her through my hacking sobs. "Please..There's nothing we can do..Don't continue to mourn for me when I am dead.."  
  
Her paraphrasing of Shakespeare's 71st sonnet made my crying worse. The reality..it was all becoming too real. This wasn't fair. How could someone as young and wonderful be taken from this world? She had done nothing wrong..nothing to deserve an ending like this. It was not right! Why couldn't it have been me?  
  
Her voice was there again, strained and hoarse, yet still rational and soothing. "Wesley." I looked back into her eyes and cursed the fact that she was (yet again) being the strong one. "Wes, I love you.."  
  
"Why?" I found myself asking. "Why do you love me? I'm not strong, or brave..I don't have a brilliant social stance, nor am I rich..I'm not what most women consider attractive and I-"  
  
Her pained laugh cut me short. "Sweetheart, listen to me..I love you because you are incredibly thoughtful, charming, intelligent.." She was fighting to speak by now, but when I tried to stop her she glared at me in that determined manner of hers and continued, "*Extremely* attractive..and you have a lot of potential for life. Don't let anyone put you down Wesley. Nobody. Your father especially..I love you.."  
  
"No..please..stay with me." I pleaded when she closed her eyes, completely exhausted. "Eve please..I love you. I need you. I can't live without you..Don't..Please. We can get through this..We have to.."  
  
I was panicking. I didn't want to lose her. And yet, she was slipping away..and fast. I needed her to be there of a morning, snuggled in my arms, snoring lightly, her cute little nose crinkling up every-so-often. I needed her to be there when I arrived home from work frazzled and worn to hold me and make everything better. I needed to smell her perfume on my suits to keep me motivated at work..I needed to hear her voice telling me she loved me whenever I was upset..I just needed *her*.  
  
Her chest was still rising and falling, but at a slower pace and the beeping on the heart monitor was slowing rapidly. "Eve..Evie..Evelyn..Don't leave me.." I cried, longing to see her eyes one more time. To hear her telling me it would be okay. "Don't go..Please.." But it was too late, a steady beep on the monitor told me so. "Oh God No..Evelyn..."  
  
Another 'flatliner'.  
  
I crumbled and lost control, sobbing uncontrollably, still clutching her lifeless hand.  
  
My life was as good as over. I had nothing left to live for.  
  
My everything was gone.  
  
****************************  
  
A/N- Ya want more??? Ya don't care??? This was good??? This sucked??? Well, tell me!!!! See the 'post a review' button? Yeah? Click it and see where it takes you. Thanks.  
  
Luv ya  
  
Neat 


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